The sages put great stock in saying that every ending is truly a beginning, or every beginning an ending, or insisting that there are no endings or beginnings, or remarking that there is nothing new, and we are doomed to endlessly repeat ourselves. Or have I said all this before?
—THE TEACHINGS OF EBENEZUM,
VOLUME LXXXVII
“At last!” the wizard sighed. “I can breathe again!”
He blew his nose profusely on the remains of his sleeve. When he was done there was nothing but quiet. The world seemed perfectly still.
“By my grandmother’s beard,” the boatman swore, “the wind has died completely.”
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked, rebagging his enchanted warclub. “Don’t you mean your grandfather?”
The boatman shook his head. “You don’t know my grandmother. If there were beards to be grown in my family, she would have been the one to do it.”
I looked out over the ocean. It was as if it had seen too much action with the Kraken and the others and now needed time to rest. We were totally becalmed.
“Indeed,” the wizard remarked, much recovered. “Do you have any idea how long this lack of wind will last?”
The boatman frowned. “After what has happened here today, I refuse to predict anything.”
The wizard nodded. “Too true. With what has happened here today, we may have turned nature completely around.” He pulled on his beard reflectively. “But we must get to Vushta at once! Norei, can you help?”
The young witch bit her lip. “I fear I lack the experience. I can think of a wind increase spell that I might be able to recite from memory. But how can I increase a wind that isn’t even there?”
“Hubert!” Alea called. “You remember the big finish we used to do at the Middle Kingdoms’ Summer Fair, where you would drag the house across the courtyard? Could you tow the ship as well?”
The dragon sighed deeply. “Alas! On a better day, I would give it a try. But this day has taxed all my strength and cunning. You saw my last landing. Terrible! I am deeply in need of sustenance!”
The boatman looked alarmed. I hastily assured him that the dragon would eat no one with whom he was personally acquainted.
“Doom.” Hendrek pointed beyond our bow. “The fog is coming.”
The large warrior was right. A cloud seemed to skim silently across the ocean, headed in our direction. It was still some distance away, but the gray tendrils looked as if they were closing upon us rapidly.
Ebenezum picked up his pack. “If only I had not lost my library when we were captured by the Rok. When I left the Western Kingdoms, I brought a spell for every occasion.” He pulled the three remaining books forth. “Now all that is left is a travel guide, a dictionary in case we wish to speak with Hubert in his native tongue, and this slim volume of household spells from my old mentor.”
I thought back on our visit to Aunt Maggie, and how she had given Ebenezum a spell to sneeze his way free of death and his legion of ghosts. I remarked upon it to the wizard.
“It’s too bad we don’t have Aunt Maggie here to help us all over again,” I added.
“Wuntvor!” The wizard jumped up so quickly that he almost fell out of the boat. “That’s it!” He pounded the book in his hand. “We do have Aunt Maggie here! We adapted one of her crop increase spells to my needs, so that, instead of sneezing like a normal human being in dire distress, I would produce a superhuman sneeze! Such a sneeze is needed again!”
Quickly, the wizard told me what to look for in the book, and the slight adjustments that needed to be made. He removed his hat and placed it in his pack. He turned to the others.
“Snarks, take off your hood! Hendrek, wave that warclub about! Hubert, breathe what flame you can muster! Norei, ready your spell! And boatman, steer true, for all our lives depend on it!”
My master took a deep breath. “I must be careful to face the stern. Wuntvor! Repeat the spell of increase!”
We all did as we were told. And my master reacted magnificently.
Thus did we sneeze our way to Vushta.
Or so we thought. The fog thinned as we approached land, and enough of a natural breeze arose to allow Ebenezum a rest.
But Vushta was not before us. I strained to see the city of a thousand forbidden delights, but all I could discern was a series of low, brown hills.
“Indeed.” Ebenezum propped himself up on his elbows from his position at the bottom of the boat. “Perhaps I have blown us off course.’’
“Not according to my calculations, you haven’t,” the boatman replied. “On my grandmother’s grave, as hard as you blew, I steered this boat straight. We should see the city at any moment. That is, of course, unless Vushta has moved.” The boatman laughed at his own witticism.
The fog was clearing as we approached the shore. The low, brown hills were getting clearer. And there was something behind them, something darker. Perhaps I would be able to see the towers at any second, maybe even glimpse a forbidden desire or two taking place high atop some minaret.
“Oh, Wuntie!” Alea said close to my left ear. “It is such a wonderful city. You must let me show you the sights!”
I was aware of Norei, close by my right ear. “Alas, if only you had the time, Wuntvor. I fear we will all be much too busy defeating the Netherhells. But I guess that’s something actors don’t have to think about!”
“They couldn’t have!” Snarks cried sharply, stopping any further exchange from the women at my sides.
The fog lifted entirely, and we all saw what Snarks’s sharp demon eyes had discerned a moment before.
Behind the low hills of the shoreline was a black, gaping hole.
“It’s gone!” Hubert, who had done his best to swim behind us, cried.
“Indeed.” Ebenezum sat up entirely. “Are you sure?”
“Of course!” the dragon cried. “It was here two weeks ago when I left! But now Vushta is gone!”
“What does this mean?” Norei asked.
“It can mean but one thing.” Ebenezum pulled grimly at his beard. “The Netherhells could not prevent us from getting to Vushta. Instead, they have prevented Vushta from coming to us.”
The true horror of it overwhelmed me. “You mean,” I whispered, “the Netherhells have stolen Vushta?”
The wizard nodded grimly. “It is their master stroke. They have pulled the sorcerous resources of Vushta beyond our grasp.” He frowned and pulled upon his beard. “Now, I fear that nothing can stop the Forxnagel!”
“Doom!” Hendrek intoned.
For once, we all feared he might be right.
THE END
(or is it?)